


Jaguar!Tom X Agent

by sailorkittycat



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Hidden Relationship, Jaguar!Tom - Freeform, Non-Graphic Violence, Secret Agent, Secret Lovers, Spies, Spy - Freeform, au!tom, jaguar villain, villain x hero - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 21:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8684323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorkittycat/pseuds/sailorkittycat
Summary: After breaking her arm during a mission, the OC gets the shock of a lifetime to see the man who’s meant to be her enemy at her door





	1. The surest way to attract somebody

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve always thought that the whole idea of being told to not be with someone is the best way to inspire attraction, as Tom tells the OC. I hope you enjoy it, as always, let me know what you thought!

I felt ridiculous. Here I was, a fully authorised level five agent, hiding underneath a bed. My hand was clasped over the lower portion of my face to stop my breathing being so loud, as I lay statue still, watching the pair of leather Oxfords pace about. He always did have impeccable style. My eyes widened in surprise as he placed a bag down, the very same leather bag I had been trying to find before he entered the room, making me dive under his king sized bed. 

“Looking for this?” He asked, his voice was calm as ever, evidently indicating that he had always been aware of my position. I stayed quiet, stewing in my own annoyance. He had been on a roll with his criminal activity and every time I went to foil his plans, he always knew I was there.   
“How did you know I was here?” I asked, sounding much more innocent than I intended. I rolled out from under the bed, fixing my lopsided ponytail.   
His lips twitched “security cameras, not to mention that I was expecting you.”  
I stepped closer to him with crossed arms and my chin lifted, pointing up at him.   
“That’s a clichéd thing to say.”  
“Very true howe-” I interrupted his comeback by grabbing the bag and running to the half opened window.   
“Shit” I swore, realising that there was a pretty large chance that I wouldn’t make the jump to the tree I had scaled in the first place to get in. I had to act fast. So I jumped, just as I could feel his fingers brush against my back, unsuccessfully grasping me. He shouted my name but it was too late.

I thought I had managed to cling to the branch of the tree but the weight of the bag was too much, throwing me off balance and onto the grass below. I groaned, my arm was in agony and probably broken but I had gotten the bag so it didn’t matter. I requested for the extraction team to collect me, picking up and the bag with my good arm and trying to run, even though my legs felt weak.

“Hey!” Mr Hiddleston had managed to get downstairs, looking uncharacteristically stressed. Usually he was the personification of snow, cold yet appealing in an odd sort of way. I had attributed it to his physical appearance, the visible cheekbones and steel blue eyes; his long, elegant fingers and deep, baritone voice. Yet, there was something fascinating about the way he would scheme; each of his plans were meticulous, there were always backup plans and quick exits if need be. Now, however, he looked out of breath, his pale skin was coloured pink and his icy eyes were wide with concern.

“I’m armed” I said through gritted teeth, fumbling for my gun with my bad arm. I tried not to wince as I aimed my weapon at him, but he must have seen how much pain it was causing me because he stopped.

“I don’t think you should be moving” he said, eyeing my arm and the smattering of blood on my face from my fall.

“Neither should you” I quipped, cocking the gun. He almost looked sad.

“Have you called for assistance?”

“They’ll be here in a matter of seconds.”

He nodded solemnly but otherwise stayed still.

“You’re not trying to take the bag” I noticed “is there anything of value in it or did you fill it with bricks?”

“You have my hands tied, agent” he said, his tone returning to its calm state “all the diamonds are in there, there’s no point in trying to get them back now, you’ll shoot me.”

His honesty caught me off guard, raising my suspicion but later reports would confirm what he had said. All the stolen jewels were there. He turned his head to the side and I caught myself admiring his profile, even though I knew that it was wrong of me to stare at the man I was trying to reprimand.

He smiled at me “you’ve got me this time agent, but I suppose I should let you win one. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.” With that, the sound of the gate crashing open caught my attention, making me look as my reinforcements came in, but when I looked back to him he was gone.

They allowed me a few weeks off of field work, letting me stay at home and recover which was a privilege. Naturally I spent all my time in bed, catching up on the sleep I had lost over the past months, taking pleasure in my much deserved holiday. It was rare for an agent to get time off, living a ‘normal’ life was nearly as hard as going undercover; you had to keep up the pretence of being an average joe even though you’d sleep with a gun under your pillow. It was difficult to mask suspicion too, which was why when I heard someone knocking on my door, I immediately went into analyse mode, trying to guess who was on the other side of the wood. I cursed myself for not remembering to request for a peephole on my door to be made.

“Mr Hiddleston?” my eyes widened in surprise, of course I had considered that he could have been the one knocking, but it was unlikely, seeing as there was a whole divisions team dedicated to finding him. Yet, he was still dressed in a fresh suit, looking casual as he took in my pyjama clad self.

“May I come in?” He asked, as if he were a neighbour asking for sugar instead of a criminal mastermind.

I swallowed “okay.” I stepped back to let him in and he closed the door behind him with a click. We stood in silence for a few, long seconds as I tried to wrap my head around my enemy, coming to me with what appeared to be a Tupperware box of cookies, which he placed on the table.

“I had to make sure you were okay” he said, looking at my broken arm in its sling.

“I’ve been better” I said hesitantly, wondering whether or not he was here to finish the job.

“Please” he took a step forward and I took one back, he paused “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“A likely story” I said with a raised eyebrow and crossed arms.

“Search me” he said, holding out his arm to the side. I made sure to keep an eye on his arms, lest they swing back down and strangle me but he stayed remarkably still as I inspected him. It felt weird to be so close to him. I hadn’t ever pictured me in my pyjamas, with my hands on his warm body, searching for concealed weapons. It went from bad to worse when I put my hands on his legs, kneeling to check for a knife attached to his leg, or a gun stowed in his pocket. It was painfully embarrassing to be feeling him up but I had to for the sake of my personal safety.

“Clean” I declared, trying to cool down my heated skin by thinking of this exchange ending in my death. He was still a lot taller than me; he could wrap his hands around my throat and choke me to death. The image of him doing so however, didn’t deter me so much as make me feel even warmer. God, how sick! This man was meant to be my rival but here I was fantasising about him erotically choking me. I only then realised how badly I needed a break from work. Not to mention how badly I needed to get laid.

“You look feverish” he said, crouching down to my height to look at my face. The back of his hand pressed against my forehead and my cheeks and I became overly conscious of how close his fingers were to my lips. I could have licked them if I wanted to. I looked away; my impure thoughts flooded my head nonstop, making me feel less like an agent and more like a horny teenager. Before I realised what he was doing, he swept me up in his arms, taking care as his hand curved around the broken one.

“What are you doing?” I garbled, in surprise.

He wasn’t fazed though “I don’t want you to faint and hurt yourself” he explained “is your bedroom through here?” He asked, nodding to the back portion of my apartment. I nodded, motioning to the door at the end of the hall and he followed, placing me on the bed gently.

I looked up at him with surprise “what is all of this?”

“I just wanted to make sure you we-“

“But why?”

He perched on the edge of the bed, looking out of place against the crumpled, white bedsheets. His head cocked thoughtfully as he considered his answer and for some reason, in the quiet that hung between us, I couldn’t help but think about how my bare skin had felt against his clothing as he had carried me. I changed my sitting position from crossed legs to kneeling, my thighs relishing in the opportunity to rub together and relieve the longing. I scolded myself internally, thinking about how they should change my name to Agent Thirsty For The Wrong Men, seeing as it would suit me more than Agent Redwood. What a stereotype to give in to! I was older now, I had given up my penchant for bad boys long ago and yet the sight of the ultimate bad boy, sitting near me had me wanting to sin.

“I think…” he began, his gaze inviting my own “I think the surest way to be attracted to someone is to be told to not be. Attraction, lust, love, it knows no restrictions or boundaries.”

I tried to say something, to open my mouth and speak but I couldn’t. Words failed me.

“I know that we’re opponents and that it would be absurd to think of a future together but if you’ll allow me” his hand moved to sit on my clenched thighs “to indulge in my fantasy” his hands continued to smooth up my thighs, leaving a wake of goose bumps “I think we’ll both be left” he inched his hands up further, just as his face moved closer too “very much” his lips were a whisper away from mine “satisfied” he breathed, closing the distance between us. The kiss was slow, deep. He was in control, taking his time to explore my mouth and his hands moved up to the swell of my breasts. My mind went into overdrive, imploring me to stop making out with the enemy and letting him get to second base with me but a larger part of me didn’t care. He could get to fourth base. Hell, he could hit a fucking home run at this point and I wouldn’t mind. He was too good to resist and I couldn’t fight the moan that escaped my parted lips.

As soon as his lips descended my swollen ones, in exchange for my neck I knew I was a goner. I hadn’t noticed that I was grinding my hips into his, until I could feel him straining against the confines of his trousers but it snapped me out of my lust filled mind.

“No, wait, stop” I begged softly and he reluctantly pulled away. His face hovered above mine, his pupils blown wide enough for him to look at his most dangerous (and most arousing).

“I-We can’t do this” I insisted “It’s wrong, you’re meant to be my foe, not my…” I swallowed nervously “lover.”

“Would you like me to go?” He asked, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“I… I don’t know” I admitted, my head was dizzy from his touch and from my predicament.

He looked a little crestfallen but he nodded “I understand, this is a lot to take in.” I watch dumbly as he stands, borrowing a posit it and a pen from my bedside table and writing something.

“Your number?” I guessed, looking at the string of digits.

“My personal number” he corrected “in case you want to talk.”

“Thank you” I whispered, following him to the door. Before he could open it to leave, he buttoned up the first button of his suit jacket and turned to me.

“I just want you to know that I wouldn’t ever intentionally hurt you” his eyes fell to my broken arm “I’m sorry I did so.”

“It’s okay; it wasn’t technically your fault.”

He left after a final glance and I spent the next week recovering from the single event. This man who was my nemesis, who I thought wanted me dead, instead just wanted me and I wanted him too, in a twisted sort of way. I tried to put him out of my mind, to focus on my physical injuries healing, instead of my mind after that day. They healed after a handful of weeks of course and I was back to work soon enough but no matter how much I tried to immerse myself in work, I couldn’t forget him. After an uneventful day of planning and catching up, I found myself at home with his number in one, shaky hand and my phone in the other.


	2. The surest way to be together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and the OC find themselves struggling to be together when they’re fighting from different sides. Is it possible for them to ever be together?

It was going to be quick and easy. At least, I thought it was going to be quick and easy but he spotted me out of the corner of his eye; to my credit, he looked fairly surprised at first to see me. The initial shock melted away however, replaced by a knowing smirk. He beckoned me; the simple action of his index finger curling had me swallowing nervously. It had been somewhere entirely different last night, and I was sure he remembered the events just as clearly as I did. After all, he knew I’d follow; he knew I was wrapped around that very same index finger. I almost hated it; I constantly interrogated myself, questing why and how I had found myself in this perverse relationship, and then he would smile and the skin around his eyes would crinkle, and the blue of his eyes would catch the light and I’d stop. God, I have it bad for a supervillain. Move over Romeo and Juliet, there’s a new tragedy in town!

“Come to spy on me?” He asked; his voice was playful which was still a little surprising. Despite his cool exterior he was veritably impish; the dictionary definition of a tease. He liked to toy and flirt and jest, before sweeping me off my feet. Literally. How could a man whose life’s work was so deeply rooted in immorality, still manage to be so loving?

“Apparently you’ve recently acquired something of interest” I said nonchalantly “I’ve come to find out what that is.” When my supervisor first told me that a certain ‘Mr Hiddleston’ had purchased an exotic item, he suggested that I take a further look to judge whether or not it was a threat. We had expected drugs or arms but when I followed Tom into his dark bedroom I saw nothing. I turned my head to him with a raised eyebrow and crossed arms.

“You’ve caught me, agent” he said, his voice was husky; he was taking full enjoyment in his performance. If he hadn’t become a criminal mastermind, he could have easily become an actor.

“Whatever do you mean, Mr Hiddleston?” I asked, playing along. He moved closer, so that he was standing directly behind me. His hand tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear; his fingertips were touching my skin so lightly, that if it wasn’t for my outbreak of goose bumps, I would have hardly felt him. He leaned in close; his lips were a whisper away from my ear.

“There’s no item of interest” he whispered “I made it up so that I could see you.” His lips brush down my neck, nuzzling into the space where my neck met my shoulder.

“Tom” I moaned his name softly as he began to press kisses against my neck, igniting the fire in me once again. His arms wrapped around my torso, and I was thankful that the arms beneath his crisp white shirt were strong enough to support me, even though my legs felt like jelly.

“It’s been too long” Tom muttered against my skin, his hands fondling me over the fabric of my cat suit, eliciting soft gasps from me. It had been too long. The past few weeks had been filled with disappointment, as I’d spent mission after mission chasing leads that ran into dead ends. Every time I thought I had answers, I’d just find myself with nothing and would be back to square one all over again. I didn’t know what Tom had been doing, he kept his cards close to his chest which was understandable, but sometimes I found myself yearning for a relationship beyond just the physical side. Was it weird to harbour a more domestic fantasy? One, where Tom would be my… boyfriend? The word sounded weird in my head but it felt concrete; real, whereas I couldn’t define our current relationship. I wanted to ask him for his opinion, but he had recently discovered the weak spot on my neck and before I could say a word, his lips would latch over the section of skin, riding me of any pressing thoughts, as well as the English language.

“I-“ I was about to tell him that I missed him but I stopped myself, revaluating the sentence in my head. I knew he must hold some form of emotion for me; he had turned up at my home months ago to tell me how he felt. It was a romantic gesture, but lately we had cut to the chase; slyly meeting whenever and wherever we could.

“You?” He prompted, his hands wandered over my body, up towards the zip that sat high up, against my collar bones. He played with it, revelling in the metallic clinking as he waited for me to speak. A sudden creak caught my attention, making me shift my head towards the quiet sound but Tom stopped me, unzipping the cat suit so that the zip rested above my navel. The cold air hit me, evoking a sharp intake of breath on my part and a satisfied purr from Tom.

“It’s so cold” I whined, trying to do the zip back up but Tom wouldn’t let me.

“I’ll keep you warm, darling” his hot breath fanned down my neck, making me shiver against him.

Another quiet creak caught my attention, making me flinch towards the sound. It was coming from outside Tom’s door but he didn’t seem bothered by it, trying to persuade me back against him instead of away from him.

I looked up at him “did you hear that?” I mouthed at him, he shook his head; the moonlight from out of his window highlighted his tense jaw, exaggerating the shadows on his face so that he looked a little more severe than usual. It didn’t help that the white light emphasised the white of his face too, making him look frightening and ethereal all at once.

“I don’t appreciate your attention being directed at anything besides me” he said seriously, although the sentence sounded akin to something a child would say. I rolled my eyes, turning back to him but before I could lean in to kiss him again, I heard another creak.

“Someone’s out there” I whispered, pulling my zipper up but when I turned to move Tom didn’t let go. His arms were rigid; trapping me against him; refusing to let me go. I frowned, applying more force, not enough to hurt but enough to indicate that he needed to let go of me. He didn’t.

“No” Tom said flatly when I struggled.

“Let go of me” I repeated but his grip only got tighter. Before I could break out years of training, the door nudged open. I held my breath, waiting for someone to catch us together; for my name and years of service to tarnish in a matter of seconds. No gasps came from the intruder, not even a jolt of shock passed through them. In fact, if anyone was shocked, it was me. The trespasser was a jaguar. A huge, black cat with topaz eyes; it observed us briefly before approaching Tom and I. I gripped Tom, suddenly wanting to get closer to him, rather than farther away but he made no move. The big cat butted its velvet head against Tom’s leg, earning it a scratch behind the ears.

Tom sighed “Regan, you naughty girl.”

“You two know each other?” I asked; I didn’t know how to phrase what I was feeling. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. Confused? Upset?

“She was going to die if I didn’t take her” Tom said, letting go of me finally to get down and pet the animal – Regan – some more “there are poachers who would kill for her. Literally.”

“So it wasn’t a lie” I said, suddenly realised what I was experiencing “you did acquire an exotic item; an item of interest.”

“She’s not an item” Tom said, continuing to caress the cat, while I stood.

“You lied to me” I said, shocked by the fact that he had treated me just like any other agent “you’ve been lying about everything.”

“No, not everything” he stood up again, his fingers rested beneath my chin briefly before I slapped them away.

“Yes, you have” I accused, my voice reaching three octaves higher than I wanted it to “you’re a liar and a cheat and now you’re a heart breaker.” My bottom lip trembled as my eyes pricked with tears. I did not cry, least of all over a boy but I couldn’t help it.

“Sweetheart I-“

“No!” I cut him off, furious that he was able to make me feel like this “I’m leaving” I said, before I could sound anymore hysterical. It would give him too much satisfaction; he’d probably laugh and stroke his precious cat like some kind of Bond villain. He tried to grab my arm; to argue his side of things but I was beyond listening to him.

I didn’t go home. I knew it was the first place he’d look for me, so instead I drove to a crappy motel on the outskirts of town and collapsed on top of the sheets, crying until my eyes were red and sore and my breaths were half hiccups. My mind raced, never letting up enough for sleep to take me under its wing.

I had been deceived.

I had been hurt.

I had been betrayed.

***

I moved. I changed my number. I cut my hair.

I didn’t report the jaguar though. I implied that Hiddleston (I was back to referring to him using his last name again) had no such item in his possession and then quickly moved onto a new target. Fabrizio Brando. The Italian arms dealer, known for not bothering to hide at all, whereas some criminals had favoured hiding in plain sight, or like Hiddleston, had just been a mysterious shadow, Brando was well known. It somehow made it easier to get to him; all it took was an invitation to one of his world famous parties.

Sometimes going undercover had its benefits, I was so used to literally, being face down in the dirt that the opportunity to dress up and sip champagne was a welcome one. I didn’t even need to act the role of the wide eyed, innocent socialite that I had been given as a cover, the mansion and the party were levels of extravagance that I had never seen before. I had a feeling that the polite façade would melt away soon. It was just a matter of time before the alcohol would take effect and the party would overflow like a bottle of champagne. Then and only then would I make a move.

For now I played at being ditzy and mingled amongst the party goers, laughing at countless bad jokes and listening to boring conversations about wine and the stock market. I was about to go refresh my drink but someone beat me to it.

“For you” Tom said, offering me the champagne flute. For a second he had me dumbfound; I must have blinked a thousand times to make sure I was seeing things right.

“No thanks” I said coolly, trying my best to look disinterested, though my heart beat had picked up the pace. He bit the insides of his cheeks, making his cheekbones jut out almost painfully, but he nodded, clearing his throat to change the subject.

“Has anyone mentioned how stunning you look?” He asked with a hint of amusement laced his words, as his eyes raked over my black gown; the high slit in the dress had elicited a particularly salacious smirk on his part.

“Several people have” I said, shrugging nonchalantly, before looking down at my manicured nails, paying special attention to the way the light caught the glossy coat, making them shine even more. I heard Tom sigh but didn’t dare look up.

“Is this what it’s going to be like between us now?”

“I’m not the one to blame for that” venom accidently seeped into my tone as I glared at him, tainting the impassive appearance I had been striving for.

Tom opened his mouth to say something in retort but I interrupted him, wanting nothing more than to leave. “Never mind, I’m not getting paid to argue with you.”

The change in Tom’s demeanour was immediate. He froze on the spot, standing statue still for several seconds, scarcely taking a breath.

“Tom?” I touched his arm; the material of his suit was soft and familiar. My touch seemed to awaken him once more, and he looked down at my hand on his forearm. I dropped my hand away, as if his gaze was scalding me, and took to folding my arms instead.

“You’re not… working, are you?” He croaked.

“What the hell else would I be doing at an arms dealer’s party?” I asked, snapping back to the angrier version of myself. It was safer to be angry at him, than it was to not be.

“You can’t be here.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m being serious” Tom hissed, his jaw locked in irritation “it’s dangerous.”

“I know, that’s why I’m here” I said in a low voice, as to not arouse suspicion. He quickly tried to reach for my arm, but I was quicker. I moved away from his reach and took the opportunity to push my way into a group of people, effectively disappearing into the crowd of people, and losing Tom.

The party came into full swing not too long after, the liquor had loosened everyone up and the party goers were on the verge of being flat out drunk. Now was the time. I slipped out of the crowd, out of the ballroom and up the grand staircase, where only a handful of people could be found. I slipped into the nearest bathroom, moving to the sink area to wash my hands before inserting my contacts, which ensured that everyone back at HQ could see what was happening. I received a ‘good to go’ message on my communicator, letting me know that they could see me.

I left the bathroom and moved back to the staircase. The amount of people thinned out the higher I ascended, until I found a safe space around the corner, and could safely make out a four body guards monitoring the hallway, close to a set of double of doors.

I needed to get in.

I kept low, fishing through my small, black clutch for the gadgets I had been gifted with at the beginning of the mission. Surely, I’d been given a smoke bomb or something that would keep the guards occupied; anything to get them away from the door as quietly as possible, lest Brando heard anything and decided to escape.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Tom whispered, still managing to sound exasperated. The sound of his voice and his hand on my shoulder, instantly made me jolt, and he clapped a hand over my mouth in case I screamed (an action I was way too acclimatised to). I pulled away his hand.

“I’m trying to get them away from the door” I muttered, continuing my search through my clutch.

“Stop” his hand now rested on my wrist “it’s too dangerous.”

“I know, that’s why I’m here” I repeated myself from earlier.

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I am going to complete my mission, no matter what.” I said loyally “I won’t let you get in the way of that.”

Tom sighed for the second time that evening, fixing his eyes on mine “I won’t let you die.” He stood up straight “let me put my arm around you.”

“What?”

“Do you want to complete your mission or not?”

I scowled at him but allowed him to snake his arm around my waist, while policing my expression into a much softer one, which was damn near impossible considering how much I wanted to continue frowning at him. He led me smoothly down the hall, where the men nodded at him in recognition, before opening the doors for us.

There were only two men in total; Brando, who was pouring drinks and a man who donned an eyepatch and (somehow) looked very serious.

“Tom!” Brando crooned “I didn’t think you were going to make it.”

“I was… distracted” Tom said, he turned his attention to me, the hand that was curved around me stroked the fabric of my dress, finding my hipbone through the material and stroking it.

“We should hurry” The man with the eyepatch interjected “a reliable source has informed me that we may be interrupted.” I blinked innocently, looking up at Tom in mock confusion. If only he knew…

“Of course” Brando moved to the coffee table, opening the box that contained the illegal firearms. He went on to lift each one out with care, telling us its name and nature, as if it were a totally natural thing to do. I tried to look natural, observing each gun with vague interest, so that the agency could see them as well as I could.

I needed to wait for their signal.

I played at being bored, detaching myself from Tom to sit down, sinking into the soft leather sofa as the men continued to look at the guns. I smoothed down the skirt of my dress and rested my elbow on the arm rest, my hand cradling my head was a casual action, but really I was waiting for the soft buzz the bracelet would emit when I needed to break away from my façade.

It didn’t take too long, a few minutes passed before I heard the purr. Unfortunately, so did eye patch.

“What’s that sound?” He asked, his eye narrowing at me. Tom shot me a look, just as eager for an answer as the other men were.

“Probably my phone” I said apologetically, popping open my clutch. I would have to take him out first, but very quickly. I couldn’t have Brando getting away. I hadn’t been gifted with any gadgets that would have helped me knock out eyepatch, so instead I decided to improvise.

“Can I hold one?” I asked innocently, gesturing to the guns “just for a second?”

Eyepatch looked suspicious but Brando smiled “Go ahead cara.” I smiled sweetly, taking the gun and weighed it in my hands. I held it by the barrel and then, with the smile still on my face, I bashed the stock of the gun against eyepatch’s head, effectively knocking him out.

“What a turn of events” Brando exclaimed, sounding more like a bad actor than an international villain “of course, I did prepare for this.” He produced a small remote control from an inner pocket in his suit jacket, waving it like a toy.

“What’s that?” I asked calmly, although I knew perfectly well what it was.

“Hmmm this?” He cradled the device in his hand “a bomb detonator.”

“Is everything going to go up?”

“Yes, except me.”

“Of course.”

“Of course” he agreed.

“Like hell it will” Tom growled, taking both Brando and I by surprise as he tackled the man to the floor. I was half in awe at this man, this version of Tom who I had never seen before. He had always been cool and calm, never one to get his hands dirty, though they were permanently stained red. Now, however, he was on the floor, keeping Brando down as I grabbed the detonator.

But he had already pushed it.

“Fuck” I swore sharply “all those people downstairs…” My heart was beating so quickly that I could physically hear it, thumping in my ears as I tried to think of what to do. I found myself barking instructions into my communicator, requesting immediate back up, I needed as many people as possible to help all the drunk partygoers.

Three minutes

“We need Brando alive” the response from my superior sounded muffled.

“What?”

“Fabrizio. We need him to stay alive. Brando is your mission.”

“But people are going to die!”

“We need him alive, agent.” I could scarcely believe what I was hearing. Was one guilty man’s life worth more than the hundreds of innocent people below my feet? I looked at Tom, who had successfully handcuffed a now unconscious Brando. He was breathing heavily, but exchanged a glance with me. I pressed my lips together in silent contemplation.

There wasn’t time to think.

Two minutes

“I can take care of them” Tom reassured me “you need to help all those people.”

“Bring them downstairs” I asked and Tom nodded. I had never felt such an intense need to kiss him but now, was the worst possible moment to do so.

Head over heart, agent.

I ran. I hit a fire alarm on my way, hoping it would work in my favour, but when I got downstairs the alcohol had left a majority of people useless. I urged them to leave, my voice was hoarse as I continued to shout but my voice was a mere whisper over the drunken shouts of everyone else.

And then I realised I was still holding the gun.

I pointed it upwards, shooting at the ceiling.

“Out!” I shouted, repeating the action, as if speaking to animals. Like cattle they finally responded, moving to the door.

Thirty seconds.

Back up finally showed up, helping get everyone outside and I breathed a sigh of relief. I ran up the flight of stairs, meeting Tom who had dumped the still sleeping bodies of Brando and eyepatch at the feet of my superior, who snarled for assistance and both men were taken outside to a helicopter, most probably. My supervising officer looked at both Tom and I for a second, painted pink from exhaustion and pale from the moonlight that reached out to us from the French windows. I wondered why he hadn’t told me that he was here, but I noticed that my wrist was bare, the communicator

“We will talk about this later” He hurried down the stairs; his exit was punctuated with the beeping from the detonator. Everything happened in a flash, Tom pulled me flush against his chest, hurtling us out of the aforementioned windows.

I landed on Tom, who scrabbled to his feet, pulling me up so that we could escape the worst of the explosion. Brando’s estate was vast and the explosion was bigger than I had thought it would be, blowing us to the ground where we stayed, debris landing nearby as I clung to Tom. I found myself thinking that if I were to die, then at least it would be here, in Tom’s arms and with that I closed my eyes.

***

“Would you ever leave it all?” I asked him, his arms were still wrapped around my body as though I were the most precious thing in the entire world. Our legs are still intertwined, refusing to separate, as if we are two puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly.

“I don’t know” Tom mused honestly, brushing his lips against mine “I’ve worked so hard and built so much…”

I wondered if I’d ever leave the agency, my superiors, and the little life I had built for myself. My job was who I was; my defining factor. Tom was the same. We were the same.

“I could offer you a job here” he murmured “you could leave and join the dark side” he nipped the top of my ear, making me gasp.

I laughed faintly “I don’t mix business and pleasure, and I like my job, I keep people safe.”

“Hmmm” Tom didn’t seem satisfied with my answer “and yet you’re here with me, a man whose business is your pleasure.” He flipped us over so that he was on top, his eyes were dark and hungry as he gazed down at me, and my skin was still patterned with the bruises and bites he had gifted me with.

“We could do it though” I arched my back slightly, letting out a hiss as Tom’s mouth descended on the juncture between my shoulder and my neck. My hand ran through his hair, weaving through the dark, cropped curls as I had so many times before.

“We could” he agreed, his lips brushed the curve of my ear “maybe we should run away together, just you and me.”

“We could do this every day.”

“You’re thinking small” he said, his mouth leaving hot, open mouthed kisses as he travelled down her body “we could do this very hour of every day.” I laughed and then moaned.

“We could do it.”

“We could.”


End file.
